


The First Hundred Days

by theworldabouttodawn



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: AoU Compliant, Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie) Spoilers, Canonical Character Death, F/M, Fix-It, Gen, guess who can't tag, it gets better though, wandavision is implied
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-29
Updated: 2015-05-29
Packaged: 2018-04-01 18:56:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4030948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theworldabouttodawn/pseuds/theworldabouttodawn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It takes less than a heartbeat for the world to change forever. It takes a hundred days to bring it back to normal. Wanda deals with the loss of her twin until he isn't lost anymore.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The First Hundred Days

**Author's Note:**

> First fic in the MCU fandom, first gen fic in a long time, first non-slash fic in forever...I really can't write anything that's not either shippy af and prompted or terrible and unpublishable OCs. Nevertheless, this happened because I am in denial. Many, many thanks to Debbie (Lune_qui_vit_dans_ses_Reves) for encouraging me to start writing again and talking me through this and betaing it for me. I love you lots <3

**Day Zero**

After she rips Ultron’s heart out, everything fades to black.

**Day Two**

She wakes up alone in a small but comfortable room. Her first instinct is to scan her surroundings, looking for her brother. He is nowhere to be seen, and although this in and of itself is not an altogether too uncommon occurrence, something in her chest tightens to the point that she is barely able to breathe. And she doesn’t know why.

The door opens and Steve Rogers walks in with a glass of water. “Sleep well?” he asks in lieu of a proper greeting. “You’ve been out for a day and a half.”

Trying to sit up, she is immediately hit with a wave of nausea and all but crumples back down. When she tries to speak, her voice comes out raspy and she coughs once or twice before gratefully accepting the water Steve offers and draining the glass. “What happened? All I remember is dust and explosions and red all over.”

“We did it, but you were caught in the explosion and passed out, probably from a knock to the head, although there’s no sign of any damage. Vision had to come and grab you before you fell,” he answers carefully.

Something is off, she thinks, but she can’t place her metaphorical finger on it, and is too tired to try, in any case. So she settles for asking, “Where is Pietro? Did he get out all right?”

He doesn’t answer her. Or maybe he does, but she’s already slipped back into the warm darkness of sleep. Either way, she hears nothing and feels nothing.

**Day Three**

The moment she is lucid, she knows deep within her heart that Pietro is gone. The emptiness in her soul, the gaping void in her mind where his thoughts used to reside, the feeling of loss that seems to suddenly pervade her very being, all that draws her attention to the one thing her subconscious has been blocking out for the past three days – her brother is dead.

She doesn’t want to ever leave her bed, or even wake up again, because what’s the use of continuing to live now that her other half is gone? All these years, they’d protected each other, stood at each other’s side, held each other’s hand, and now she’s failed in her duty to Pietro, because he’s gone but she’s still there. And she can’t live with the knowledge that she couldn’t protect him like he did her. She can’t let him go where she can’t follow.

But as she curls over and tries to will herself to fall back into the blackness forever, the door opens again. Stubbornly, she refuses to turn over, instead burrowing back into her cocoon of blankets that she can almost pretend are Pietro’s arms wrapped around her. “Miss Maximoff?” she hears, but doesn’t respond. She’s not sure who the voice belongs to, but she knows that he’s not who she wants to hear.

Her visitor tries again. “Miss Maximoff? The others are worried about you. I – I am worried about you.”

And now she knows who her visitor is – the Vision, she had heard Stark call him. The android that she had helped create and tried to destroy. The last vestige of the horror that was Ultron in this world. Despite what she sees in his all-too-human mind, she can’t bring herself to trust him, because he is Ultron’s kin and Ultron killed Pietro. “What do you know of human emotion?” she snaps. “You are nothing but artificial flesh and metal.”

Instead of retaliating like she almost hopes he will, he gently responds in a seeming non sequitur, “Pietro would not have wanted you to live this way. He would have wanted you to enjoy the life he preserved for you.”

Wanda still doesn’t answer, because what could she possibly say that doesn’t sound like a betrayal?

**Day Three (continued)**

Despite all the control she has over others’ minds, she can’t seem to control her own needs. It’s been three days since she last ate, and she’s absolutely starving, never mind that she’s trying to ignore everything and retreat into herself. Luckily, someone had brought in a tray of food for her in the past few hours that she’s been out again. Groaning and hoping the nausea doesn’t set back in, she sits up and sets the tray on her lap. It’s a light lunch, probably best for her after three days without food – a salad with what looks like Italian dressing, some strawberries, and a glass of apple juice. She all but inhales it and then makes as if to go back to sleep – that’s all she wants to do for the rest of her life, dive straight back into the blackness of her dreams, where Pietro might still be alive and none of this would have ever happened.

But then the door opens again, because it always seems to open exactly when she doesn’t want it to. In comes the android again, yellow cloak fluttering behind him. “I am glad to see that you’re eating,” he says, carefully choosing his words, trying his best not to set off the woman (girl, really) in front of him. “You need to regain your strength.”

She opens her mouth to speak, probably something like _my strength is none of your worries_ or _it doesn’t matter anymore_ , but to her horror, she finds that she cannot form words. Instead, her tears have chosen this moment to hit her, and at the sensation of a single salty drop coursing over her lips, the dam breaks and she starts sobbing, screaming, letting out the raw sorrow and loss that had somehow disappeared when she ripped Ultron Prime’s heart out.

But now she knows, and she _feels_ , and she doesn’t know how she can stand to be alive when Pietro, her rock, her protector, her _brother_ is dead. Even the very act of existing is painful in and of itself, and she feels the roaring emptiness within her mind, the frayed and torn link that was supposed to connect her and Pietro, and the sheer loneliness and abandonment that pervades every aspect of her very being.

Suddenly, she feels strong arms wrap around her and hold her tight, pulling her close into a smooth chest that’s warm enough that she can almost pretend that he’s Pietro back from the dead. Except she can’t, not really, not when Vision smells less like home and more – just – _clean_ , maybe comforting, but definitely not Pietro. Despite all her previous animosity towards the android, however, she can’t help but press herself closer to him, seeking out any vestige of comfort and affection she can find.

He holds her until she cries herself dry and strokes her hair, hesitantly at first and then with more purpose and confidence when she shows no sign of shying away from his touch. It doesn’t take long for her to fall asleep – again – from exhaustion and sorrow.

**Day Four**

She’s alone again when she wakes up, tucked into her blankets like she hasn’t been since she was ten. The kindness in Vision’s actions is not lost on her. Neither are his words, and she decides that maybe, just maybe, there is still good in the world, even after Pietro’s gone, and maybe she will begin to live for him.

**Day Six**

The others respect her decision not to attend her brother’s funeral, unaware that it’s not a decision but a simple inability. She’s afraid that, if she sees him lying there, so still and quiet unlike the boisterous, rambunctious man she knew, she would lose her resolve to keep herself away from him.

**Day Twenty-Two**

Sitting on her hands (literally or metaphorically) is not going to do her (or anyone else, for that matter) any good. If she’s going to make the most of the life Pietro left for her, she’s got to stop moping around in her room and do… _something._

Luckily, Steve decides to ask her if she wants to join in on their training sessions. Relieved, she says yes, of course she would, it’s the least she can do.

It’s the first time that she’s felt like she belonged somewhere with more people than just Pietro, and for a moment she’s terrified that that means she’s losing him.

That night, she finds an unsigned note written in a careful hand atop a blood-stained blue and grey running shirt on her pillow.

_I found this in a closet in the medical wing. It may be of some help to you._

When she picks up the shirt, she finds to her joy that it still retains her brother’s scent. She wears it to bed that night and wraps her arms around herself, imagining that she can still feel his presence and his embrace.

**Day Twenty-Three**

Vision smiles when he sees that Wanda looks better, calmer, happier, than he’s ever seen her, glad that his gift has achieved far beyond its purpose. She returns his smile, and notes with some surprise that it seems to be the first time she’s smiled since she lost her brother.

**Day Thirty-One**

Glancing at the wall calendar in the kitchen before breakfast, she realises with a jolt that it’s been a month, to the day, since Sokovia. She spends the rest of the day secluded in her room, going through her own memories of Pietro deep in her mind. If there’s any fragment of him left, she can’t find it.

**Day Thirty-Two**

When she reaches up to grab the orange juice, she hears the dulcet tones of a synthesised voice wash over her. Despite the familiarity and comfort she finds in said voice, she nevertheless is surprised by the sudden appearance of the android behind her and yelps, stumbling and falling backwards.

Vision catches her and sets her back on her feet. “I am glad to see you are back in the world of the living,” he says. “You worried me when you did not show up at all yesterday. I wanted to find you, but you probably needed your solitude.”

Wanda smiles at him, softly, slowly, hesitantly, perhaps, but at least it’s a start. “Thank you,” she murmurs. “I really appreciate it.”

**Day Fifty-Four**

She tumbles into bed, exhausted, and falls asleep without even a glance at the shirt folded neatly on a chair. Her dreams are peaceful, melancholy perhaps, but calm and quiet.

**Day Seventy**

Blearily, she rouses at the knocking on her door and calls out, “What is it? Are we under attack?”

The response is exactly what she did not expect. “Happy birthday, Wanda!” Tony calls, flinging the door open. “You’re, what, sixteen now?” He comes in bearing a large cheesecake (her favourite), followed by the others with plates and forks and balloons and gifts.

She struggles up in bed, about to say something like _You are not supposed to barge into a lady’s room, Tony, it’s rude_ or _I am at least 23, you’re just an old man, but thanks anyways_ , but then his words click with her and she stills, mind racing. “It’s our – my – birthday?” she gasps.

“I told you this wasn’t a good idea,” Rhodey hisses at Tony. “She shared this day with her brother, for God’s sake!”

But Wanda doesn’t really hear him, because she has already retreated back into the depths of her mind, seeking out any vestige of blue and silver that might have found its way into the endless scarlet and black. She thought she had recovered well enough to function, but evidently not. As she had come to expect, but also to fear, she finds nothing that belongs to her brother in her own consciousness. Nevertheless, she would rather stay in the comforting darkness of her mind than come out to face the harsh light of reality and the fact that _today is their birthday_ and that _Pietro is not around to share it with her._ This day was supposed to be his as well as hers, and – and he is no longer twelve minutes older than her, she is now a year older than him and they are no longer twins and there is _nothing okay about that_. 

Suddenly, she feels, rather than hears, the last person leave her room quietly and the door close. She’s struck with a wave of intense anxiety at the thought of being alone today – it’s bad enough that she should be celebrating her birthday with her twin brother, who she lost about two months ago. If she’s alone today, she might as well have lost everything when Pietro was shot, and if the past two months have taught her anything, it’s that there’s still some good for her to live for.

Although she’s reluctant to leave the warm cradle of her own mind, she emerges and opens her eyes, intent on finding someone – anyone – who can pull her out of her own mind and help her deal with Pietro’s conspicuous absence. When she looks around, however, she finds – to her surprise – that Vision has remained in the room and is currently perched on the desk, patiently waiting for her to return to reality. When he feels her eyes on him, he smiles and says, “I had a feeling you might require my presence today, Wanda.”

“You are far too perceptive for your own good,” she responds. “But thank you for your kindness.”

He cuts a slice of the cheesecake and places it on a plate, handing it to her. “Happy birthday, Wanda.” As she takes it, she is surprised when he cuts another one and sets it aside on the desk. “Happy birthday to Pietro as well.”

She’s not surprised, however, by the tears that suddenly start to fall or Vision’s sudden but comforting presence around her. While Pietro’s death has hit her all over again, and hit her hard, she feels that maybe, just maybe, she can get through this again.

They emerge from Wanda’s room hours later, having eaten all the cheesecake and Vision having finally convinced her to face the world. The others seem subdued and sheepish – especially Tony – but they perk up when they see her looking much better than they expected after their misguided actions. The rest of the day passes in a surprisingly pleasant blur for her, but before she tumbles into bed that night, she grabs the blue and silver running shirt that had been sitting on the nightstand for a week and falls asleep clutching it, her face buried in it as if she could still catch Pietro’s scent. For a moment, before she enters the realm of dreams, she could swear she hears his laughter.

**Day Eighty-Two**

After a long day of training, she takes a cursory look through her mind just to make sure that everything is ordered and normal and that nothing is out of place. For a moment, she thinks she sees a glimmer of blue and silver in some dark corner, but she dismisses it as just a memory or a remnant of the link that once bonded her and her brother.

**Day Ninety-Six**

She’s running laps in the gym, working up her endurance, when Steve bursts into the room. “Wanda, I need you to come with me. Now,” he demands.

Breathing hard from her workout, she grabs a water bottle and follows him through the facility to a wing she had only seen briefly, when she was given the grand tour after the facility was well along enough to completion that it was inhabitable. They come to an unmarked door and she hesitates, unsure of what exactly is going on, but he pushes open the door and strides right in. “Is he awake yet?”

“Not yet, but soon, we hope. Did you bring her?” Dr Cho asks.

In answer, Steve steps aside to let Wanda into the room. It seems like a run-of-the-mill lab at first, blue-coated assistants carrying important lab results and samples here and there, but then she sees a window at the back of the room that shows another, smaller room. And when she sees the sole inhabitant of that room, her heart stops.

Just for a moment, of course, and then goes back to beating faster than ever. Because Pietro’s in there, seemingly asleep but otherwise looking none the worse for wear, and she hesitantly reaches out with her mind to find that, indescribable joy of joys, there is a small, fragile, but very real and very tangible flicker of silver and blue in that room. With a cry, she tears through the lab, barely sparing a passing glance for all the people who scurry out of her way, darting into the room and to Pietro’s side. When she takes his hand, it’s warm and pulsing with energy and any questions she may have had about the inexplicable resurrection of her brother are driven out of her mind at the sheer _life_ she feels streaming out of him like she’d never thought she would ever feel again.

Suddenly, she feels his hand wrap around hers, a bit weaker than she remembered but it doesn’t matter because now he’s awake, Pietro’s awake and alive and everything is right with the world. Opening her eyes (she hadn’t realised she had closed them but it must have been to try to stem the tears because now her cheeks are wet but really, does it even matter) she looks into a pair of bright baby blue ones and nigh on _sobs_ out her brother’s name.

“Pietro.”

And he grins, lifting his other hand to stroke her face. “Told you not to worry about me. I can take care of myself.”

With that, she launches herself at him because, really, what else is there to say? She’s got her brother back and, really, that’s all she could have ever asked for.

**Day One Hundred**

“Why didn’t you tell me Pietro was alive?” she rages, flinging cups and plates around the kitchen and forcing said brother to dash about making sure they don’t break. “Do you realise what that did to me?”

“Because no one knew if he could be kept in stasis that long, let alone regenerated with the cradle,” Vision says mildly. “And if you had known and then everything had failed, there was no saying what would happen to you, and none of us, least of all I, wanted to see you hurt any more than you already were.”

“Does it even matter now, sister? I am alive and well either way,” Pietro comments, sitting on a stool and cooling down from his mad scramble to save the china.

Wanda turns her anger on him, although it’s already fading with the still-new-and-forever-incredible remembrance that yes, Pietro is alive, and the silver and blue in her mind has returned, but just for appearance’s sake, she yells at him too. “They held your _funeral_!”

“We had to keep it secret from the rest of the world too, lest it get out that the Avengers have the technology to resurrect people,” the android adds, while Pietro just smirks. “It was necessary for security reasons.”

“How many people knew about him then?” Wanda asks, turning back to Vision. “I do not need to be _coddled_ and _protected_ like that!”

He holds his hands up placatingly. “We weren’t trying to coddle or protect you. With your joy over Pietro’s return, you might not remember how broken you were those first few days, but I do. And that was something I do not wish to ever see you go through again.”

Pietro bolts up, glancing from his sister to her saviour, a light going off in his head. “Did I miss something in the past three months? Are you two dating?”

Wanda dumps a nearby glass of water on his head but smiles nevertheless, because all is finally as it should be.

**Author's Note:**

> come say hi at imrahilion.tumblr.com if you want to


End file.
